Tittle: By Inches
Challenge: warm
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
A/N: To sleep, perchance to dream. ...
Dean was drowning in a tidal wave of memories. The warm feel of blood on the blade, the insufferable heat…Once, he'd even dreamed he'd seen John on the rack. John had corrected his form then laid back down so Dean could continue torturing. "Do it," John commanded as Dean hesitated, "You've got to do your job. It never ends."
His breath quickened at that nightmare.
Every time he wakes up, sputtering under the current of dreams he reaches for his flask. But every time, Sam's sad stare stops him from going completely under.
He would continue to die by inches.